


Oblivious

by artoni



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artoni/pseuds/artoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's uncomfortable, between them, but maybe it's best when one isn't aware of the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> An attempt at writing fluff with these two.
> 
> ...I have no idea if it worked.
> 
> Based off [this picture](http://uniformshark.tumblr.com/post/29865391156/yes-i-love-these-two-uvu-they-are-the-cutest); written with permission.

You wouldn't think there were many stresses aboard a spaceship, what with being completely separated from the rest of...well, everyone except who was also on the ship, but the Lost Light seemed prone to mishap after mishap. From the blast at takeoff to the Sparkeater incident to Delphi and Fortress Maximus to Theophany...

It was an awful lot, really, when you stopped and thought about it. Especially when Tailgate was still trying to...well...catch up to the fact that he had missed the Ark.

From what little he had gleaned, though, that...may have ended up being a good thing. It wasn't as though Cyclonus was open about what had happened, but some of the crew was willing to shed light on things - however true or not their stories were. Zombies? A mech being able to kill others by a single /touch/? And what was with this amalgam of Decepticons, all rising as one to try and destroy Cybertron...?

All he knew was that Cyclonus had been right in the thick of things, and his old friend(?) wasn't talking about them. Maybe they were part of the reason he was so distant, now, really only talking when he had to...

Poor guy. He really needed a friend. It was clear that he was somewhat of a pariah among the rest of the crew, but frankly, with him being the most familiar thing on the ship...Tailgate was by no means willing to give up on him, not like this. Not even with Cyclonus refusing to acknowledge him more than a brief glance when he'd enter their room, even as Tailgate looked up from the desk with a somewhat hopeful light in his optics only for that light to dim as Cyclonus immediately went to lie down on the berth and shut his optics.

He looked really, really tired. Maybe it had to do with those noises earlier, some of the shouting and ruckus that had Tailgate about to step out and investigate for himself before they stopped, just as he reached the door.

But that hadn't even been a breem ago. And Cyclonus didn't look damaged, so...whatever it was, maybe it was tiring in another way. His systems were already powering down, recharge coming quickly. Tailgate watched him a moment longer before going back to the datapad he'd been studying, trying to understand some 'history'...

...at least, until a few other noises caught his attention. Ones he..wasn't really familiar with. Tailgate had to pause for a few moments, listening, before he realized they were coming from /Cyclonus/.

...you'd think after this long, he'd have learned that Cyclonus talked in his sleep, but - he didn't, normally. There were one or two times he thought he heard some muttering, but these were...more than mutters, and as Tailgate crept closer for a better look, he saw that Cyclonus looked...well. Distressed.

"...hey."

No response, just a grimace that was far deeper than the ones he wore normally. It looked pained, even, and Cyclonus' claws flexed. All of it was unconscious, of course; a mech in recharge could still respond to certain stimuli, especially as their processor tried to defragment memories, sort them properly - some, however, whether through vivid memory-dream or through a simple quirk of their neural net, found their chassis reacting to those memories as though they were happening at present.

All of that was besides the point. Tailgate hesitated only a moment longer, before reaching forwards for Cyclonus' arm. When it didn't seem to be noticed, he tried...well, he tried /petting/ the armor, lightly, trying to offer another stimuli that would hopefully be calming. "Hey, it's okay..."

If this wasn't awkward, he didn't know what was, but...through murmurs on his end and continuing the soothing gestures, Cyclonus slowly stopped his restless shifting. Job well done, Tailgate began to pull back...

...and quickly realized, by Cyclonus' returned grimace, that this may...end up taking a little longer than he'd thought.

* * *

When Cyclonus woke, it wasn't to full alertness. It was a slow drift in to unconscousness, a struggle against memory and dream and nightmare, processor still trying to sort out which was which. It was also to a warmth against his side, one that confused him, at first, at least until he powered on his optics.

Tailgate.

Tailgate, leaning against him, absentmindedly petting his forearm. He'd managed to worm his way in to a sitting position on the berth, leaning back to Cyclonus, seemingly oblivious to his reawakening...

...and Cyclonus could not, for the life of him, understand why he was all but /clutching/ the smaller mech against him.

For some time he just laid there, mind still in on itself as Tailgate continued to feel his armor. All told, it wasn't an unwelcome touch; hardly the sort to wake him up, but it was...

...nice.

Dimming his optics, Cyclonus came to the slow conclusion that whether or not he could slip back in to recharge after...all of that...it wouldn't be a bad idea to simply...pretend.


End file.
